


daddy leakage (aw beanz)

by Anonymous



Category: Polygon/McElroy Vlogs & Podcasts RPF
Genre: Aftercare, Apologies, BDSM, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Established Relationship, Feeding Kink, Multi, Public Humiliation, Sub Drop, Subspace, both within the fic and also from me, the weirdo author, you know who the fuck it is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-12 13:38:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19230220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: fuck grandma. see you in hell.





	daddy leakage (aw beanz)

**Author's Note:**

> un-beta-d. uncapitalized. unapologetically fucked up. 
> 
> at least i'm not as horny on main as simone.  
> \- fish

ubisoft was a lot. the beans were kinda gross, yeah. fuck pat for that shit. but also, just—

simone flailing in theatrical boredom—

> _did i just hit you in the head?_  
>  _yup you did._  
>  _you want me to do it again? will that make them excited?_

—pat sliding his gaze over, lips quirking, having just fired another animation—  

> _thank you, patrick._

—simone’s increasing energy, unpredictability, which offers no peril for brian’s wellbeing in a workplace context but try telling his _brain_ that, when it’s seized with the overwhelming familiarity of _oh fuck oh fuck what’s she gonna do next_ —  

—patrick’s soft, reasonable, instructive rumble—

> _pick those beans right back up my boy_

—simone being _absolutely fucking wild_ on main and pat chiding her, laughing with guilty pleasure—  

> _what if i show my feet?_ _  
> _ _SIMONE_

—pat’s wide-mouthed laughing while he groaned and simone danced, unconcerned—

> _somebody shazam this for me!_

—he couldn’t do anything but smile limply while they knocked him around. right at the end was the worst, he already felt so sick, and exhausted, and knew he’d been useless for conversation for more than thirty minutes, embarrassed, spacing out too hard to even remember to eat—

a montage, god, a montage, that’s _three_ , god—

he’d just decided that he couldn’t, couldn’t take any more, would have to deal with the shame of bailing on his own stupid game just five minutes shy of the ending—

then pat looked over, in that way he does.

he saw brian slow, hesitate, waver. his face was focused. observant. he could _see._ he could see. what brian was thinking. that brian was gonna give up. that he was _dying_ on stream—

> _maybe you should switch to one bean at a time_

so pat, that statement. goading sympathy. _here’s a way out, you poor thing. sure, it’s for cowards, but you can take it if you want._ then he fired off another number. how stupid, that he’d thought pat’d give him mercy. _fuck_ pat. fuck simone. fuck all of them. he’d take his fucking punishment. pat smiled as he picked up the spoon again.

> _another little treat for you, umnumnum_

brian closed his eyes, and breathed out hard through his nose, and took it.

 

* * *

 

simone can’t stop _moving_ , and pat can’t stop _laughing_ , and brian _can’t hold it together, okay._

he ends the stream in a fog of hysterical potty humor and then leans back, nauseated, exhausted. pat and simone are bickering about being horny on main, and clay and jenna are cleaning up, but it’s a long minute before he even phases back enough to realize simone is tapping him.

“earth to brian. you alive?”

he’s dangerously close to falling off the edge at this point, such is the discomfort and the embarrassment and the endless mockery and the fact that really he only has himself to blame.

“uh-huh.”

he hears himself, a little detached. he sounds frail. that only makes it worse, draws the intense attention of all four people in the room, who stop the things they’re doing, and then start doing other things, and there’s just a lot of things to keep track of, right at this second, both in and outside of brian’s body.

“you okay, bri? sick?”

jenna, that’s jenna.

a touch. simone? yes, simone’s side. she’s pulling his sleeve.

a sound. the door. clayton’s propping it open. says something like _it’s hot in here_. but it’s not, is it? it’s cold.

“bri?” oh gosh jenna’s in front of him, confused, worried, looking at him across the table, and he doesn’t remember what she just asked. um. or how to answer it?

pat, who’s been penduluming between concern and delight for hours now, swings back into view, presses a hand firmly onto brian’s leg.

“let’s go get some air, yeah?”

brian nods and takes the proffered hand up, shuffles out, ignores the murmuring behind him and around him and just lets himself be guided.

he’s already being pressed onto the couch before he realizes that they weren’t going outside, after all, and that they’re in tara’s office, and that pat must’ve borrowed or swiped the key somehow. he sees rather than feels pat’s hands on his knees, the taller man crouching in front of him.

“hey bri, just relax, all right? nod if you’re with me.”

he does, relieved he doesn’t have to fight his tongue into sentences anymore.

“i wanna hold you. nod if you’d like that. it’s okay if it’s too much right now.”

brian nods eagerly, and pat slides next to him on the couch, does some skinny long-limbed acrobatics to get his leg behind brian without pushing him around too much. it’s good, being pulled back a touch to rest on pat’s chest.

“uncurl your leg, baby boy, it’ll go to sleep if you sit like that.”

he can’t quite feel the leg, just the loose embrace and the touchpoint of bony collarbone behind him. still, he thinks he managed whatever pat asked, because he’s kissed on the temple in reward.

“good boy. just rest for me, okay? relax. you did so good. tell me if you feel sick, all right?”

“nuh-uh. m’good. just tired.”

“that’s good, bri. relax. you can go to sleep if you want. i need a nap anyway.”

this sounds unbelievably good to brian, and so he lets himself drift, not quite to sleep, but just out into darkness for a while.

 

* * *

 

it only takes some twenty minutes for brian to feel all right again, but he stays still a while longer, because pat really _has_ fallen asleep, even shoved up on the couch behind him, pretzeled in a way that just _must_ be uncomfortable. brian tries not to move for as long as he can, ‘cause pat’s got a 24-hour workday ahead of him, and it’s good to store a couple minutes of calm before the coming storm.

eventually he stirs, though. “hey pat.”

“bri. you feeling all right?”

“yeah.” he grimaces. “i mean, no, i feel like a disaster, but i’ll live.”

pat strokes his hair, and sighs. “sorry, babe. i didn’t know beans’d be worse than kielbasa, honest.”

“no, no,” brian sighs. “the food was fine. i can eat _so_ much more trash than that. it was just—”

he pauses. how to explain this without making pat feel bad?

“we pushed you too far. it was the teasing, wasn’t it.”

“yeah,” brian blushes. “and simone just, um. wilding on me.”

“we both fucked up.” pat sounds contrite. it’s nice. the stroking down his arm is nice, too.  “it’s just too fun to watch you torture yourself. we gotta keep that shit off main. it’s a bad look.”

brian snorts. “i don’t give a shit. laugh at me all you want. i love looking like a stupid asshole. i just didn’t think i’d—” he pauses. “i think i was just tired.”

“you been through a lot this week. sorry we were mean.”

“i friggin’ _love_ when you’re mean, pat, that’s the goddamn problem,” brian moans. “i had a _hardon._ you two put me into subspace in front of like _six thousand people._ ”

“figured. sorry i didn’t notice ‘til you’d dropped. i feel like an ass.”

“honestly it’s—it’s a relief you didn’t notice,” brian sighs. “maybe it wasn’t too obvious?”

“i think people’ll just assume you were feeling sick,” pat assures. “you held it together really good.”

“thanks for rescuing me,” brian murmurs. “and letting me nap on you.”

“least i could do, kid. i gotta get moving though. i haven’t packed.”

brian turns to kiss him, gently. “good luck with your travel marathon. you’ll call me when you’re done with giant bomb? even if you’re tired? in case i need you?”

pat sucks in a long breath through his teeth, and hisses it out. “i guess i deserve that.”

“you do.” brian pushes himself up.

pat runs a hand through his hair, and his expression falters. “well, fuck. yeah, yeah, i’ll call.”

“wear something cute.”

“fuck _you_.”

brian blows a kiss. “see you in hell, pat gill.”

“they prefer _los angeles_ , brian.”

**Author's Note:**

> if you're like, "what the fuck was that," go watch the last 30 minutes of the ubisoft stream and then try to tell me _i'm_ the pervert.
> 
>  
> 
> (spoiler alert: i'm the pervert.)


End file.
